Husband For Keeps. Kate Little

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      Heart failure, the doctors had called it. That was the information she’d finally received upon her return. Medication at that point was only delaying the inevitable and eventually wouldn’t have much effect. Nothing short of a complete transplant could help him, and he was too advanced in age and his body too weak to be a candidate.

      She’d planned a visit home in the summer months, anyway, but it was a call from Ophelia that had finally alerted her to the dire situation.

      And once Carey had returned home, she’d found a once-intimidating, giant of a man reduced to such a pitiful shell she’d hadn’t the heart or will to take up old grievances with him. Heavens, no. She’d been thankful enough to make it back in time to offer some comfort to him at the end.

      Her father had died peacefully in his sleep, less than two weeks after her return. It was a few days after the funeral, while Carey still coped with the first wave of shock and grief, that she learned of the unfortunate—no, make that ridiculous, archaic, moronic—stipulations in her father’s will.

      At no small cost she had hired lawyers to break the will, and the document was contested for months. But to no avail. Only a few weeks ago, Carey learned that the court upheld her father’s will and that his requirement for her inheritance would remain as he had decreed.

      Just thinking about it made her blood simmer. The gentler, kinder feelings she’d developed for her father during his last days were shadowed by the knowledge that even after death, he would insist on controlling her, forcing her to conform to his standards, his plans for her life.

      They drove beneath the arch that bore the words Whispering Oaks and Carey noticed Luke sit and up take notice.

      “This is your place?”

      “That’s right.” She turned to him, wondering why the news had inspired that look on his face.

      He glanced down at his watch and smiled. “Then it looks like I won’t be that late for my interview after all.”

      “Your interview?” Now it was Carey’s turn to be surprised. “Here?”

      “I have an appointment with a fellow by the name of—” Luke reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper “—here it is, Willie Jackson. I heard you were in need of a foreman, and I called from town this morning. He told me to come right over. In fact, I was on my way when my truck broke down. Some coincidence, huh?”

      Carey had to agree. “Yeah, a doozy.”

      So maybe these two lost souls weren’t going to disappear as quickly as she had expected after all. The thought of Luke Redstone taking up residence on the ranch as her foreman flashed through her mind—both exciting and frightening at the same time.

      If he passed Willie’s interrogation, the final decision would be left up to her, of course. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to hire him. Though a man traveling in search of work with a small boy in tow was hard to turn away without a substantial reason.

      She wasn’t sure why this man was so unsettling to her. She rarely met a man who managed to make any real impression, to penetrate her “force field.”

      But this one—this one jammed her radar with a glance.

      She liked it. And then again she didn’t.

      She gave herself a mental shake. Living in Hollywood, she had been around some good-looking men. Some remarkably good-looking men. She believed she’d become if not numb, then certainly distant and carefully delayed her reactions, preferring instead to find out what was under all the attractive wrapping before she allowed herself to walk out of the store with the package.

      But for some strange reason this man was in a different league altogether. His looks, not typically handsome at all, certainly not movie-star smooth or polished, were totally arresting.

      His straight, thick, black hair, damp with rain and slicked back from his brow, emphasized strong features—wide cheekbones, a hard, square jaw and a straight blade of nose, set above a firm, sensuously wide mouth. And those eyes, nearly black in color and bottomless. She’d never seen eyes so dark, she thought.

      Dark and deep enough for a woman to easily lose herself in them. But not this woman, she promised herself.

      “Are we there yet?” Tyler murmured groggily.

      Tyler. The boy had been sitting through the ride so quietly she’d nearly forgotten about him. As Carey glanced down, she could see that he was more than half-asleep, lulled by the stuffy warmth of the cab and the slow, steady beat of the wipers.

      His small body was nestled cozily against Luke’s side, with Luke’s arm draped around his shoulders.

      Luke roughed up Tyler’s hair with one large hand. “Almost there, pal. See, there’s the house up ahead.”

      The ranch house had finally come into view, and Carey headed straight for it, thankful they’d arrived. Tyler sat up and rubbed his eyes.

      “Good,” he mumbled. “I really need to use the bathroom.”

      Carey couldn’t help but laugh, and heard Luke’s deep chuckle, as well. They shared a quick glance over the top of the boy’s head, and she felt that peculiar ping in her chest when his gaze met her own.

      She quickly looked away, steering the truck around the front yard and parking as close to the front door as she was able.

      She spotted Judge Kendall’s car and was thankful that he had waited. Carey guessed she had Ophelia to thank for that small miracle. Carey imagined that the judge was now working his way through the last tasty rounds of a five-course lunch.

      Luke hopped out of the truck, then stretched out his arms to catch Tyler. “Let’s get in there and find the facilities,” she heard him whisper in a fatherly fashion.

      “I’m okay,” Tyler balked.

      Though Luke offered to carry him to the porch, the boy insisted on walking himself, one hand grasping Luke’s as his feet slipped and slid on through the puddle-covered path. Carey noticed then that the child was wearing only sneakers, not boots or heavy outdoor footwear.

      Luke had introduced himself as the boy’s uncle. But it appeared to Carey that the boy was in his care. And maybe Luke didn’t have the money to buy more expensive shoes right now, she thought. She guessed he really needed this job.

      Luke and Tyler waited politely at the door until Carey had made her way up to the covered porch. She opened the front door and ushered them in, showed them where to leave their wet jackets and shoes, then pointed out the closest bathroom.

      “Just come back to the kitchen when you’re ready. You both most be starved,” Carey said as she headed toward the kitchen herself. “Ophelia will make you some lunch. Ophelia?”

      Carey swung open the kitchen door and was greeted by the expectant look on her housekeeper’s face. Ophelia waved a note at Carey and proceeded to relate the message before handing it over. “Your fellow, Kyle, called a few minutes ago,” Ophelia told her immediately. “He’s stuck in the storm. But I didn’t tell the judge,” she added in a whisper. “He’s just finishing up his lunch.”

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